


For who, finding themselves imprisoned, would not wish to escape?

by Himring



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Akallabêth, Books, Female Protagonist, Gen, Númenor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himring/pseuds/Himring
Summary: Miriel and a book.The title alludes to Tolkien's defence of escapism.  It does not imply Miriel survives. But neither is her drowning described, so I chose not to use archive warnings.





	For who, finding themselves imprisoned, would not wish to escape?

**Author's Note:**

> The main prompt used was:
> 
>  
> 
> [ **_Books_ ** ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.annalu.it%2Fen%2Fbooks%2Fmizuko-kuyo-books%2F&t=M2RkNTMyZjYyZjJiODU0NDhmOTE1MjBmOWMwZTYzNDg5ZTY3NzQzOCxlSmtxaGpBUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Ak5ibwbq5aUVwrii7bdtRBA&p=http%3A%2F%2Flegendariumladiesapril.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184033521347%2Flegendarium-ladies-april-prompts-for-april-08&m=1)  
> **by  Annalú Boeretto**

Finally alone in her window seat, Miriel took a breath and opened the book, as a woman parched with thirst might uncover a well or, emerging from a cavern, might peer out at the stars. Even in these last days, when her soul was a desert and nothing was easier than seeing death, the book still offered refreshment. Today, she did not even read, merely held it open and allowed the dear words to rise up toward her from the page.

No prayers or hymns, nothing to do with Valar or Elves, nothing at all to see for the censors’ suspicious eyes. Merely a few lines about a leaf, a drop of rain…

In the blackness of the night, Miriel, who had lain listening to the sound of rolling thunder for hours, rose like a sleep-walker, wrapped the book in waxed cloth and enclosed it in a box made of cork wood. Then she lay down again.

When the Land of Gift was submerged in the waters and sank, the book floated, like a crumb of joy cast upon the waves, until it came ashore in Umbar where a girl found it washed up on the beach.

But hers is another story.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The piece touches on others of this year's prompts, in particular on the excerpt from "A Soliloquy for Cassandra" by Wislawa Szymborska.
> 
> (On looking more closely at the picture of annalu's sculpture in greater resolution, I found that I had overlooked the butterflies. If I had seen them, my response to the image might have been different, but I do not wish to change anything now.)


End file.
